Chapter 2 His Mansion

YELENA

I brushed off the thought as we reached Tristan's mansion, a few minutes from the packhouse, but it felt like we had crossed into another world.

The moment I stepped inside, goosebumps prickled my skin. Everything about the place screamed cold.

The walls were painted in shades of ash, the chandeliers glittered like frozen stars, and the chairs and tables were glass, all polished, sharp, and untouchable. The kind of furniture that made you afraid to even sit.

It didn't feel like a home, it felt like a place where warmth went to die.

Nyra and I exchanged a look. She mouthed, creepy, and I almost snorted. It was my first time here too. I always wondered why Tristan avoided letting wolves into his private space.

Even though he'd been sick that time, he refused to be treated here; he dragged himself to the packhouse instead. And now... I think I understood why.

The house felt like him. Cold. Guarded and powerful.

Daniel helped me drag my half-unconscious husband to the bathroom. The place was marble from wall to floor, bigger than my entire bedroom back home.

"I'll be in the living room. I'll leave soon," Daniel said, his voice clipped.

I nodded gratefully, but when I turned, Nyra was still planted in the doorway with her arms crossed, her smirk screaming trouble.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, raising a brow. "Your attention isn't needed here."

Her smirk widened. "Oh, really? Because from here it looks like you might not be able to handle him. Want me to lend a hand?"

I narrowed my eyes. "He's not a patient, Nyra. He's just drunk. And as much as I adore your constant concern... kindly step out. I want to attend to my Alpha... my husband... myself."

I stretched the word husband on purpose, letting it echo in her ears.

She clutched her chest dramatically. "Ohhh, excuse me, Nurse Luna. Forgive me for offending your royal grace." She even bowed.

I burst out laughing. "Get out before I throw soap at you!"

Still chuckling, she finally left.

When I turned back, Tristan coughed, making me rush to him. "Sorry about that... she's crazy," I whispered, even though he was barely conscious.

I started undressing him, my hands fumbling at his shirt. He was heavy, uncooperative, but gods... he was beautiful even like this. I stripped him down and dragged him into the tub, running warm water to fill it.

His body shivered under the touch of heat, and I quickly peeled off my white wedding gown, the one I swore I'd keep forever. Instead, I slipped into green lingerie that clung to my damp skin.

Sliding into the tub with him, I sighed when his body finally relaxed against mine. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

His face was right there, close enough for me to study. Those striking features, sharp jaw, straight nose, lashes too long for a man... everything about him was unfairly perfect.

I traced my hand down his cheek, into his black hair, soft and thick like strands of night. My lips brushed his without minding the alcohol and all. I didn't care. I was just... happy. Happy that out of every she-wolf, I was the one who got him.

I splashed some water on his face. He groaned, shaking his head. I laughed, leaning closer to kiss him again.

And that was when it happened.

His hand shot up, gripping my throat.

I choked, my eyes flying wide. His hold was strong, unyielding, even though his eyes were still closed.

"Tristan... It's me!" My voice came out strangled as I clawed at his arm, hitting his chest with my free hand. "Open your eyes!"

The grip tightened. My lungs screamed. My fingers tangled into his hair and I yanked it once... twice, hard.

His eyes snapped open.

I gasped, water splashing as he released me, staring around wildly. His chest heaved, his face shadowed with confusion.

"What happened?" His voice was cold. Detached. His gaze flicked to me, then away. "What am I doing here?"

I froze. Seriously? That's what he had to ask? After nearly strangling his wife to death?

"You were drunk," I spat, rubbing my aching neck. "And I was helping you, until you decided to choke me."

His eyes darkened for a beat. Then, softly, "I'm sorry." He pulled me into his chest suddenly, his arms firm and steady. My body shivered against him, my heart racing. "I wasn't in my right state."

I nodded. I knew he wasn't. But still. The coldness in his eyes... it unsettled me.

Then his gaze slid down my body. And changed.

"Stand up," he said quietly. His tone wasn't commanding, but something about it made my skin burn.

I swallowed, but obeyed, stepping out of the tub slowly, water dripping down my lingerie. His eyes followed every curve, every drop that slid down my thighs.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, low, almost to himself. But I heard it.

Heat rushed to my face. My chest tightened.

He washed his face, rubbing a hand through his wet hair right where I'd pulled him earlier. His jaw clenched faintly, probably stinging from the tug. I almost apologized, but then he stood, towering over me, every inch of him Alpha.

I couldn't move as he suddenly scooped me out of the bathroom.

My breath hitched, my body frozen, then slowly relaxing in his arms. His chest was solid, his voice deep and smooth when he whispered:

"Let's see what the Luna of Blue Moon pack can do."

His tone dripped with challenge. With possession.

My heart thundered.

He set me down, peeled off his wet shorts, and my eyes went wide. The sheer size of him...

"Yelena," his voice cut through my shock, steady, calm. "What are you doing?"

I realized I had been staring too long. Hard. My mouth went dry, but my body moved on instinct. Kneeling before him, I reached for him, weighing him in my hand.

Goddess help me, how was I supposed to fit all of this in my mouth?

I swallowed, my tongue darting along his length before I wrapped my lips around the head. He groaned, low and rough, as I sucked gently. The sound made my thighs clench.

I took him deeper, gagging slightly, but forcing myself to adjust. My body responded instantly, I was wet, aching, desperate.

He tangled his hand in my hair, guiding me, thrusting into my mouth. His groans filled the room, each one sharper, more demanding. My core pulsed with every sound.

"Fuck," he moaned, pulling me up suddenly. His mouth crashed against mine, and then I was in his arms again, carried to the massive black bed.

He lay down, pulling me over him. His eyes locked on mine as he shifted my lingerie aside, too impatient to even remove it.

Then he thrust into me. Hard.

I gasped, the sound ripping from my throat as he filled me completely. My nails dug into his chest.

"Tristan..."

He cut me off with another thrust, faster, deeper. The bed rocked with his pace, rough but controlled. Every move of his hips made me cry out, pleasure flooding through me.

His rhythm shifted... slow, then fast, then hard again. My body couldn't keep up. My moans mixed with his groans until the air was thick with it.

"I...Tristan... I'm..." I screamed, my climax tearing through me, shaking me apart.

He gripped my ass, thrusting harder, chasing his own release. His groan was deep, feral, as he came inside me, his body trembling.

I collapsed on his chest, my body still quivering.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breaths.

Then his voice, low, cold, almost a whisper against my ear.

"At least you'll be useful for this."

The words sliced through my haze. I froze. Did I hear that right?

But exhaustion pulled me under before I could even think. My last thought before sleep claimed me was that his words didn't match the way he held me.

And that scared me more than anything.